


A Night to Remember

by Prevailing



Series: Splitting Image [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Dirty Talk, Fluff, Happy Flashback, M/M, Mild Kink, PWP, Smut, These Dorks Again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5694655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prevailing/pseuds/Prevailing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian has a proposition, and Pela Serot is the biggest sucker this side of the wormhole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night to Remember

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyVean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVean/gifts).



> I hope this meets with your expectations! Also, _whoa_ is this pushing the boundaries of the mature rating.

Serot looks up and to the left. Atop the dresser, one of the holo-recorders sits, blinking red. Julian chuckles softly in Serot’s ear and grasps his chin. “Stop looking at it,” he chides, turning Serot’s head to bring their lips together again.

“I can’t help it,” Serot says between kisses. He sneaks another peek out the corner of his eye. Their bed is surrounded by the little blinking contraptions. It’s distracting. Then again, so is the way Julian’s delightful erection is pressing against his thigh. He can’t _believe_ he let Julian talk him into this.

“Just in case we ever get stuck in a rut,” Julian had said last night as he rubbed Serot’s shoulders _most_ persuasively. That was one of his colorful human idioms again. Serot couldn’t imagine any reality where he could take Julian for granted. He was an invigorating tonic, one Serot fully intended to take to bed every chance he got. Julian must have been talking to the Chief again. If Serot weren’t so busy (and, to be honest, worried about causing a scene), he'd give that man a piece of his mind for filling Julian's head with such nonsense. Stuck in a rut, really! Despite Serot’s insistence that they wouldn’t turn into the O’Briens, Julian was determined to never let such a frightful scenario come to pass.

So here he is, lying on his back, naked, being kissed into submission by the most enchanting man he’s ever met. He can’t complain about his good fortune (intrusive holo-recorders notwithstanding).

_The Prophets are smiling upon you, Pela Serot. You better not disappoint them!_

Julian deepens the kiss, the addition of his tongue making Serot shiver. “There,” Julian whispers, “just relax, love.”

“Mhm.” Serot is hard and heavy against his belly, getting harder still as Julian breaks away to suck his neck. His breath hitches and he spreads his legs, offering himself. If only he had Julian’s flexibility—he’d give his beloved all he has.

As Julian’s wet mouth kisses down to Serot’s collarbone, his nimble fingers caress the tender skin along his sides, drawing more shivers. Julian rocks his hips, rubbing against Serot’s thigh and, oh, it’s so tantalizing, he can’t resist. Reaching between their bodies, Serot takes Julian in hand and gives him several slow pumps.

Julian groans, thrusting forward, but can’t seem to hold back a teasing smile. “Getting impatient, are we?” he says.

Opting to remain silent, Serot slides down the bed, nudging Julian upward with a swat to his bottom. Julian, clever thing, takes the hint at once and straddles Serot’s face between his thighs. He’s truly magnificent: jutting upward, pink and smooth as Vitarian silk. Serot savors the perfection of him, the scent of his unique human musk, before taking him into his mouth. Above him, Julian cries out his name and sinks his fingers into his hair, encouraging but not pulling. Too bad.

Serot swirls his tongue and sucks harder. He’d love for Julian to be rough with him, but Julian is far too controlled, too mindful of his strength. Despite the trembling of his thighs betraying his need, Julian stays statue-still, stroking Serot’s hair and moaning as Serot works his length. “God,” Julian whispers. Drawing back, he breaks the seal with obvious reluctance. “That’s enough of that now. You’ll make me come.”

Serot licks his lips. “That was the idea, my dear.”

“Eager for it to be over?”

“I _do_ have to finish that dress for Mister Rolin’s wife.”

“He put in that commission two days ago! What does that old git think you are, a magician?” When Serot only grunts in agreement, Julian cups his face and adds, “Well, he’ll just have to wait.”

“I’m so disappointed,” Serot says, gripping Julian’s hips to nuzzle the forest of dark hair between his legs and inhaling. The desire is a tightness in his chest, the emptiness inside him overwhelming. “Julian,” he breathes. “Julian, I want you. Please.”

“How?”

“You know how.”

Julian leans down to kiss him. “No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?”

Serot feels the beginning of a flush spreading across his face. He knows that Julian is playing it up for the holo-recorders, but he isn’t sure he can meet Julian’s level of brazen enthusiasm. “ _Please_ ,” he repeats.

“Come on, Serot, don’t be shy now.” Another kiss, deep and slow. “Camera’s rolling.”

“You can edit it later.”

“I much rather prefer you as you are.”

“Then—” The rest of Serot’s words are cut off as Julian reaches for a bottle. He holds his breath, waiting, attention on Julian’s well-practiced movements. Julian casts him a smug look. His fingers drip, getting lubricant on the floor and the bed sheets, but it doesn’t matter because soon he’s kissing his way down Serot’s body, tongue tip grazing his nipples before descending lower, lapping now, and pressing his warm lips to—

“Yes, yes,” Serot hisses. “That. More, please.”

“Tell me what you want.”

Serot shakes his head. Evil, impossible man. Julian’s fingers slip down, teasing, and Serot grabs at the sheets and cants his hips. The finger circles and circles, but doesn’t press deeper. Serot takes back everything he ever said about Julian being sweet and kindhearted. The Prophets paired him off with a pah-wraith. “Julian!”

“Yes, love?”

How dare he sound so innocent! “Oh, I—” Serot gasps as a finger _flicks_ him. “I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to torture me!”

Julian licks his most sensitive flesh and this time Serot can’t help but whimper in frustration. He can feel the curve of Julian’s smile against his skin. “Not exactly,” Julian says.

“And here I thought you Federation doctors were sworn to do no harm.”

“So dramatic. Very well, let me see. Increased breathing rate—” Julian grasps Serot’s left wrist and feels at his pulse. “Increased heart rate. Vasocongestion of the skin—very common in Bajoran males—and, what have we here? Yes, I believe that’s penile tumescence. Mister Pela, would you like my differential diagnosis?”

“I’m on pins and needles,” Serot deadpans.

(One of his favorite human idioms, truth be told).

“It’s my expert opinion that your symptoms are consistent with the first stage of sexual arousal. Not torture.”

Serot throws his head back and growls. He’s struggling to retort when those slick fingers return. That’s enough arguing for one night. “Yes, Julian,” he says. “Inside me, please.” To his surprise and immediate delight, Julian obliges. Serot groans and arches off the bed. He feels a building desire to be filled, and when Julian slides in the second finger and begins to stretch him, Serot covers his own mouth to smother all sound.

Julian moans and kisses his inner thigh. Those fingers curl inside him, making him squirm. “Feeling good?”

Serot’s answer is absolutely inarticulate.

A third finger joins the others. It’s not nearly enough. Julian’s delicately-accented voice floats over him like velvet. “Are you ready for me?”

Serot nods vigorously. “Please. I want it. More than anything.”

Grinning, Julian reaches for the bottle again. “Slutty little thing, aren’t you?”

Uttered by anyone else, those words would sting. But from Julian, spoken with longing and adoration, they strike at something deep in Serot’s core. Seizing on them, he throws himself into Julian’s arms, kissing his startled ja’lat with pent-up need. “Yes,” Serot says, breath coming in gasps as he tastes the inside of Julian’s sweet mouth, “tell me I’m your dirty little slut.”

“Oh, _god,_ Serot.”

“ _Tell_ _me_.”

Julian dips his head to suck at Serot’s neck, hard enough to leave a mark. “You’re my . . . " Julian hesitates and whispers, voice low and husky, “my dirty little slut.”

A tingling, hot surge of pleasure rushes down Serot’s spine. He falls back on the bed and spreads his legs again. He can feel Julian’s eyes drinking him in, avidly watching him stroke himself. “Please, Julian,” Serot begs, spitting the words out before he can reconsider, heat spreading across his face as his blush deepens, “I want your cock inside me. I want you to pull my hair and—” Serot licks his lips, “—use me. Fuck me, Julian. Please. Fuck me like a Risian whore.”

Julian's eyes go wide and his mouth drops open. Finally, Serot has accomplished the impossible: he’s struck Julian Bashir speechless. Then Julian lowers his eyelids and favors Serot with a predatory grin. It’s the only warning Serot gets before Julian flips him onto his stomach. “Hands and knees,” he orders.

Serot clambers into position and bites back an anticipatory moan as Julian grabs his hips. Granted, Serot isn’t an expert on Risian prostitutes (or prostitutes in general, for that matter), but he has a few ideas.

And, apparently, so does Julian.

There’s no easing in, no gentleness. Julian slams into him with one hard thrust. Serot gasps from the force of it, his vision hazy with stars, but he recovers fast and bucks his hips. Julian grunts and pounds into him again and again so roughly that Serot’s teeth gnash.

Soon they’re both sweating and panting from exertion, and Serot is grateful for Julian’s youthful stamina because he doesn’t want it to be over. Not yet.

Julian reaches forward to brush away the hair that’s fallen in Serot’s eyes. Then he goes still, as if considering. Serot tilts his head and nudges Julian’s hand in encouragement. _Yes, my dear. Do it._ He knows it isn’t in Julian’s nature to hurt anyone (despite what he might say about doctors being sadists), but this is what he wants. The fingers curl through his hair, winding around the strands, and Serot holds his breath as they form a fist.

Serot can’t help the shout that escapes as he’s jerked backward until his head is resting against Julian’s shoulder. The pain is exquisite, as revelatory as beholding an orb, and it takes all of Serot’s willpower not to come as Julian, fingers still tangled in his hair, bites his neck and begins to move again.

Julian seems to sense his weakness. “Not yet, Serot. I’m not done with you yet.”

Serot groans. He loves being inside Julian, loves his wanton howls and his writhing and the way he so shamelessly rides him. But nothing quite compares to this. Julian is buried deep, giving Serot every satisfying inch of him. The sting of his pulled hair completes his ecstasy. This is everything he dreamed of.

And he is most assuredly going to feel it in the morning.

In a flash, Serot remembers that evening several years ago, when Gil Tor’emek had decked him for being “uppity.” Serot would be the first to admit that he’d been a smidgen sarcastic when replying to the Cardassian’s stupid questions. The blow had knocked him to the shop’s floor and left his ears ringing as Tor’emek kicked him in the stomach. His world narrowed to a pinpoint of bright agony before an intense euphoria blotted it out. Its warmth surged through him, disturbing and frightening and seductive, as Tor’emek drove the breath from his lungs. Even after Tor’emek tired of the exercise and hauled Serot to his feet, nonchalantly putting in his order for a new lounge suit as if nothing had happened, the exhilaration lingered.

Julian’s breath is a ragged, hot rush in Serot’s ear as he speeds up. Each thrust sends a shock though Serot’s body, banishing the unwelcome thoughts and weakening his knees. He wants to collapse forward, but Julian holds him aloft with one arm around his middle while he uses him, his grip on Serot’s hair both threat and reward. Ironic. Even as he’s inflicting pain, Julian is a selfless lover, caring only for Serot’s desires.

“Now look, habibi,” Julian murmurs. 

Serot lifts his eyes. His attention falls on the far wall, where Julian’s affixed one of the holo-recorders. He stares straight into its sensor, never wavering from its blinking light. That is until Julian loosens his hold, letting Serot sink to his elbows. “Bloody hell,” Julian groans, grabbing Serot’s shoulders as his movements become more erratic. “You feel—oh, _yes—_ so good.”

Serot smiles against the mattress and whines desperately as Julian spanks him. It’s a light slap of the hand—hardly anything to write home about—but when Julian smacks him again, harder this time, he has to wring the bed sheet between his fists to keep it together. Oh, one of these days, one of these days he’ll convince Julian to _really_ spank him.

But not tonight. Julian is unraveling fast, and he rolls them onto their sides and lifts Serot’s leg to brace him for the last stretch of fucking. Reaching down, Serot strokes himself and closes his eyes as Julian's hand joins his. “Oh, Julian,” he chokes out. He’s so close now. The heat is building within him, spreading.

Seizing him by the hair again, Julian jerks Serot’s head back and kisses him. That’s all it takes. Serot climaxes hard, his noises muffled against Julian’s lips, and the cascade of it sends Julian after him a heartbeat later. Julian howls and shudders with the aftershocks of his orgasm before collapsing back with a sigh. Serot smiles as he feels a puff of warm breath against his nape. “Mmm,” Julian purrs.

Serot agrees with an equally eloquent hum.

For several blissful minutes, they indulge in contented post-coital silence, gazing up at the ceiling and holding each other. Julian rests his head on Serot’s chest, and as Serot runs his fingers through Julian’s soft, sweat-dampened hair, he thanks the Prophets again for his good fortune. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d fall so thoroughly in love, at his age.

At last, Julian rouses and mutters, “Oh, right. Computer,” he calls out, “end recording.”

The computer chirps and around them the blinking lights go dark.

“Hmm.” Julian twists around to look up at him. 

Serot catches a twinkle in his eye. “What do you find so amusing?” he asks.

“You, Serot. You’re full of surprises.”

Serot rolls his eyes to hide his embarrassment. “Everyone has their little proclivities, my dear.”

“Maybe so, but I don’t care about everyone else’s proclivities. I had no idea you had it in you, Serot. Don’t make that face. I’m serious. You, letting your hair down, showing me your wild side—”

“You exaggerate.”

“Hush. It was very, very,” Julian kisses him, “ _very_ sexy.” He raises his brows wickedly. “And now we have it preserved for the ages.”

Serot laughs and pulls the covers over both of them. “As if I could ever forget.”


End file.
